Movies
by mooyoo
Summary: Fluffy kid!Michael & kid!Linc watching movies.


**Title:** Movies  
**Fandom:** Prison Break  
**Characters:** Michael, Lincoln  
**Prompt:** 028: Children.  
**Word Count:** 671  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** Nightmares? Bah! kid!Michael and kid!Linc watch a scary movie.

**Disclaimer:** Paul Scheuring and a whole lot of other people who aren't me own _Prison Break_.

-

Michael squinted through the dim light of his bedroom and scanned the page of his grammar book quickly. He tried to focus his attention on nouns and adjectives but his head kept popping up at the sounds of tinkling piano music coming from the living room. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to block out the noise of the TV from the other room, Michael got to his feet and followed the blue glow across the hallway and into the living room where he found his brother sprawled across the couch, Doritos bag in hand.

Michael stood in the doorway for a few minutes and watched the lights from the TV flicker through the dark room. On the screen a small boy stood in a clown suit, knife in hand and blank expression plastered across his face, and Michael was intrigued.

"What're you watching?" he asked and Lincoln jumped.

"Shit, man, don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry. What're you watching?" Michael asked again.

"_Halloween,_" Lincoln replied. "And no, you can't watch with me," he answered before Michael could get the question out.

Michael gave him a petulant expression and stuck his lower lip out. "Why not?"

"You know why not," Lincoln replied, turning from his brother back to the television. "It's a scary movie, you'll pretend it doesn't scare you, and then Mom'll blame _me_ when you wake up at two in the morning with a nightmare."

"I won't be scared," Michael protested, taking a step further into the room and bracing an arm against the back of the couch where Lincoln lounged.

"Uh huh," Lincoln scoffed and pushed Michael away from the couch, his gaze never wandering from Jaime Lee Curtis on the screen in front of him.

"Hey, I'm ten-years-old now," Michael stated defiantly. He'd been informing everyone who would listen of that fact since his birthday several weeks ago, expecting a new level of respect and privilege now that he'd reached double digits.

"You don't say?" Lincoln replied with lazy disinterest as he tossed a cheese-coated chip into his mouth.

"Liiiiiinc," the younger boy whined as he leaned over the couch once more.

Lincoln groaned, "God, alright, fine," and grabbed Michael by the arm, pulling him over the back of the couch.

Michael grinned in triumph and scooted down to the end of the couch, perching himself on Lincoln's outstretched legs.

"Twerp," Lincoln tossed at him, giving him a quick kick in the side.

"Jerk," Michael shot back, punching him in the knee.

Michael settled himself half across the couch and his brother's legs before Lincoln turned to look at him seriously.

"Now you're not going to be scared, right?"

"Right."

"No nightmares tonight?"

"Nope."

"Or tomorrow or the next night?"

"None, promise."

"And if Mom asks what we watched tonight?"

"_Scooby-Doo_."

"Good boy."

Michael grinned again and Lincoln passed him the chips.

Several hours later Lincoln was pulled violently from a dream about a knife-wielding William Shatner by the creaking of his door being opened. He rolled over and sat straight up with a _woosh_ of exhaled breath, heart thrumming in his chest.

"Linc?" Michael called out in a tiny voice.

"Dammit, Michael," Lincoln breathed out. "Christ, you fuckin' scared me. Again. Whatsa matter?"

"I, uh…" Michael trailed off and Lincoln watched him shuffle a bit in the doorway, gripping the doorknob tightly.

"Bad dream?"

Michael's chin quivered and he nodded hesitantly. Lincoln sighed and resisted the urge to say _I told you so_. He shuffled over in his bed and pulled back the covers.

"C'mon, get in."

Michael smiled gratefully and bounded across the room, leaping into the bed next to his brother. Lincoln pulled the covers back around them and shifted so that he could sling an arm around Michael's waist.

"I'm sorry," Michael looked up at the older boy briefly, then burrowed his head in the crook of Lincoln's arm.

"'S okay," Lincoln replied sleepily and rubbed his brother's back, listening to him get comfortable and then sigh happily. "Happens to the best of us."

**-end-**


End file.
